


Olia, meet Marlia

by Romanumeternal



Series: Julia and Marlia [4]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Rome, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Slavery, F/M, Non-Sexual Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 09:23:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16216139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Romanumeternal/pseuds/Romanumeternal
Summary: If she's to  avoid getting sent back to her old owners, Marlia needs to make some friends, and fast. Olia, meanwhile, just needs to fill her in on some of the more informal house rules...





	Olia, meet Marlia

Marlia fluffed the pillow, and placed them neatly back down on the bed, before pulling slightly at the duvet. She looked it over, frowned, and then looked nervously at Marcella and Lukaminka. Marcella looked at her, an exasperated expression on her face, whilst Lukaminka, sipping from a glass of water, looked sympathetically at her.

But not, Marlia noted, too sympathetically. 

"Is it..." she said, quietly, and then hung her head. That was a trick she knew. Hang the head, appear humble, and maybe people would just shout at you rather than hurt you. She knew it wasn't perfect, didn't have the blend of military precision and decadent comfort that a patrican girl's bed should have. But then, Marlia knew, she had no experience with such things. A floor, a filthy mattress shared with three other girls and, if lucky, a tattered blanket was what she was used to. 

"Oh, in the name of Romulus, look at me!" snapped Marcella. Marlia did so, obeying instantly.The taller woman - bulky, with a plain, slightly sour face and a cascade of black hair - looked at her with a look of contempt. Marlia winced. 

"This is why you don't, Lukaminka" said Marcella loudly "buy slaves from a discount warehouse."

Luka looked at the bed, then at Marlia, and tried to smile. She was the smiling sort, Marlia knew, despite only knowing her for a few days. The first thing Luka had done when she'd seen Marlia was practically forcefeed her; the second was to eagerly show her around. In a cold, cynical part of her mind, Marlia wondered if Luka would have been quite so pleasant had she not been a slave in a Senator's household. 

"It isn't that bad-"

 

"It looks like the bed was made by a ill-educated whore" said Marcella. "Why Claudilo even thinks you'll be suitable.." she made an exasperated noise. Luka looked at Marlia pityingly. 

"She can't help it, Marcella". She shrugged. "Not all of us are lucky, right, and its not Marlia's fault she was a bargirl, right?"

Marcella sniffed. "Oh, come on, Luka. You know what they say about her sort. Not even houseborn, if Claudilo has his facts right. All her sort care about is skiving off work, stuffing their bellies and opening their legs for any man who comes along."

 

Marlia looked at the floor, her eyes dry as she heard the words. She'd heard them all before, and the worst thing was, they were true. She was baseborn, and not even in a household; her mother likely some criminal slaving away in a work camp, begetted in a brutal rape or when her mother opened her legs for an extra portion of food in all probability. Her formal education was all but non-existent, and, well she had been fucked most nights since she was fourteen. So, as she had many times before, she simply pretended not to hear as others discussed her, as though she was made of stone.

Still, she wondered, somehow it felt worse having fellow slaves talk about you like that. One somehow expected that combination of contempt and ignorance from the free, but was always taken aback when people in almost her exact same situation had the same reaction. But they frequently did. In Marlia's experience, there was no one so judgemental and snobbish as a slave looking down at a slave even further down the pecking order. 

"Well, she can't help it. Maybe she can be trained up." 

"I don't care if can help it, Luka, she's patently unsuitable. Certainly not in this household. We should just sell her back, if you want my opinion. Certainly, a lady's maid should be from within the household. Not some slut with more owners than fingers."

Lukaminka nodded at the words 'lady's maid', and glared at Marlia briefly. From what she understood Lukaminka had hoped to be the lady's maid, with Marlia taking her place as a menial skivvy. That would have suited her just fine. If her duties were meant to be cleaning and scrubbing and - occasionally - screwing, with a reasonably full belly and with few painful punishments, she would have leapt at the chance. Her absolute dream - of serving as an archivist or a librarian or something - was, she knew, never going to come true. But instead, she'd been picked to serve a woman she'd never met - a woman, by all accounts, who was petty, demanding, arrogant and, worst of all, the daughter of a Senator, used to fine service.

Just to put the cherry on it, Lukamina seemed to think she should have been picked instead. For a minor miracle, Lukaminka, other than making one or two barbed comments about this, hadn't inflicted any resentment she felt at this on Marlia. That, Marlia knew, was a stroke of good fortune. Had Lukaminka being a more vindictive - or ruthless sort - Marlia was in no doubt her life could have been made substantially more unpleasant. 

"Please, I'm willing to learn-" said Marlia, but Marcella interjected.

 

"I just don't see any point in teaching you. Household thrift is no doubt something to be prized, but buying you is taking it too far. I'm not leaving this household with Julia having a useless maid. She's a Senator's daughter, she deserves better."

 

Why, whispered a treacherous voice in Marlia's head, why does she deserve better. What's she done, other than come out of the right mother? Nothing? But here you are, expected to be grateful for the chance to be slapped around by her.

"Maybe, if I became Julia's, then Marlia could be put to work in the kitchens." Luka said. Marlia nodded, enthusiastically nodding at that suggestion. 

 

Marcella nodded. "Perhaps, but I doubt Claudilo would be be too keen. For some reason he doesn't want you serving Julia. 'Criminally irresponsible' was the words he used, actually. We still have a month before Julia gets back from the Academy for the last time - Gods, its been seven years there already - so if we sell this one we might get something decent."

"Or she could stay in the kitchens" Lukaminka said, persistently, and Marlia felt a swell of gratitude. The household of Senator Callarius - where you were fed, and only slept two to a bed, and where you were warm, and where causal cruelty at least wasn't an everyday occurrence - was a place she wanted to stay. Not, she knew, that anyone much cared what her wants were. 

 

"Why, Luka? We've got enough there as it is." She paused, and looked at Marlia. "Make yourself useful until the evening - there's some dusting that needs to be done upstairs. Meanwhile, I have to make sure Quintus' stuff all got unpacked. Can't believe he's back already, either, and you know Drufio won't have done it."

 

Marlia, inwardly shuddering at the idea of being sold again, almost certainly to a much worse place, leapt at the chance to redeem herself. 

 

"Do you want me to help unpack, ma'am?"

 

"No."

 

Lukaminka interjected.

 

"I think Olia is putting Quintus' room to order now. She might want some help." She smiled, encouragingly, and, eager to prove herself to be of at least some value, Marlia quickly scurried off as Marcella and Lukaminka walked away.

 

It took her a few minutes to find Quintus' room - it was right atop the house, in a room that would normally be reserved for slaves or keeping old furniture. She knocked on the door, thinking. Olia, she heard, was a slavegirl who was Quintus' concubine, more or less, and apparently under the delusion that the two of them were in love. Since, from what Marlia had heard, Quintus was clever, and it was impossible for the free and unfree to love each other, that obviously meant Olia was an idiot.

 

A vague idea scurried across her mind. Perhaps, she could fuck Quintus. That way she might be kept on, even if it was as a drone and nothing else. Her mouth twisted in a sad smile for a moment. Fucking a man so that she could be warm and fed and not have to deal with a dozen drunk men every day and with owners who, if not benevolent, certainly didn't seem overly cruel...she shook her head. The fact that that sounded like a dream about as obtainable as her one of being sold to a bookseller spoke, she reckoned, volumes about her life.

She knocked on the door.

"Come in" said a male voice. She frowned for a moment - wasn't Olia meant to be in here? - and opened it.

 

The room was dim, cluttered, and in the centre was a man, sitting on a chair. He leaned forward as he saw Marlia, frowning.

He was, Marlia noticed, thin- almost woefully so - and had short, neatly cut brown hair, above a pair of eyes that narrowed slightly when he saw her. He tilted his head.

"I don't recognise you" he said, in a harsh, grating tone. He was dressed in a plain, white tunic, and, Marlia noticed, one of his legs was twitching, very slightly. 

 

"M-my name's Marlia" she said, using the name Claudilo had given hereafter her purchase, seemingly more or less on a whim. "I'm sorry, I'm new here. I was told to come up here and help Olia?"

The man's mouth twisted into a sardonic smile. "Really. I should think that there should be a 'sir' in there, if not a 'dominus'. I'm Quintus Antonius Amelia Callarius." He cocked his head. "Yes, I heard mention of a new slave. Did you always address your owners so casually?"

 

Inwardly, Marlia kicked herself for not playing it safe.

 

"I-I-I-"

 

"Stop stammering, you sound like Claudius on a bad day. Why were you sent up here?"

"To help Olia unpack, dominus. I assumed that you would take your refreshment in the atrium until your room was made ready."

 

Quintus smirked.

"Its your place to assume what I'll do, is it?" Seeing Marlia's eyes widen, he sniffed and rolled his eyes. "Oh do stop gaping, whatever your name is." He gestured to a metal crutch, leaning against his chair. "I'm a cripple, and in all honesty it has not been a good week. So no matter how messy this place is, I still prefer it as somewhere I can nod off without too much embarrassment. And since you're new, and probably about to say something like 'is there anything I can get you', you can't. Can you read?"

 

Somewhat disorientated by the sudden change of subject, Marlia nodded dumbly. Quintus smiled, slightly more softly this time around.

 

"Good. Then you can put those books into alphabetical order."

 

She strode forward towards a pile of books and started to shelve them, as Quintus took a thin, rolled up, translucent scroll out of his pocket, laid it flat over his lap, and tapped it twice. It flickered for a moment, and then became a screen. Out of the corner of her eye, Marlia could see heavily built, armoured vehicles; no two alike, racing through the desert.

 

She slotted a book into position - Barbarians; Plague; Traitors ; the Collapse of the First Empire - and then took another one, located where it was meant to go, and then placed Hunnic Rome and Roman Britain: How True Civilization was almost obliterated into its place, thinking as she did so. She'd gladly screw him if I could read one of these occasionall, no matter how weak he was or how he twitched. She felt a surge of dislike towards Olia, whoever she was. Doubtless, she was prettier than Marlia...but maybe Quintus was the greedy type. Perhaps, Marlia reflected, she could even do a deal with Olia. Teach the other slavegirl the sort of tricks with men you only learnt after being used by hundreds of them. 

 

There was another knock on the door, and Quintus snapped "Enter". Marlia looked around, to see a moderately tall girl standing, with a tray of herbal tea, the peppermint smell making Marlia's stomach roil somewhat. She was medium size, with shoulder length black hair and dark skin, the colour of old, polished wood. Her face, with its large, almond shaped eyes, gave nothing away as she saw Marlia.

 

Inwardly, Marlia sighed. Olia was pretty - no, beautiful, no doubt about that. 

 

"Dominus" Olia said, her accent slightly strange, foreign, Marlia reckoned. Quintus smiled - but softly, fondly as Olia poured him a cup of tea. For a moment, the two of them looked at each other with nothing but affection. Mentally, Marlia shook her head. Olia, she thought, was obviously one fine actor. Had this Quintus wrapped around her little finger. 

 

"I don't care how good this tea is meant to be for me, it never tastes good" he said.

 

"I could put some chili into it, dominus."

 

"Olia, adding illegal amounts of capsaicin will not make it better." Nevertheless, he took another sip, and gestured towards Marlia.

 

"By the way that's the new girl."

 

Marlia was treated to a hard and somewhat appraising stare.

 

"Is she, dominus? Perhaps, dominus, if you'll excuse us, I should just fill her in on a few things."

 

Quintus shrugged. "Have fun."

 

With a jerk of her head, Olia indicated Marlia should follow her outside. Slightly worried, Marlia did so. Still under a hard and unfriendly stare, she shut the door behind her. Wordlessly, Olia indicated that she should follow further down the corridor. 

They turned a corner and Olia gently put a hand on Marlia's chest, pushing her softly against a wall. 

"So" said Olia. "You're the new one, right?"

 

Marlia nodded. Olia cocked her head.

 

"Lost your tongue, have you? I'm Olia, if you had not guessed. I'm the property of Quintus, not the Senator himself. That said, I help out around the place when he returns home. You're to serve Julia, right?" 

Marlia nodded.

 

"I think that's so, but I might not be suitable..." she trailed off under Olia's look.

"The others were saying. What Claudilo was thinking...still, you don't seem too dumb. Don't talk much, which is good, and you've the attitude of a whipped dog, and you're nowhere near as pretty as Julia. I see no reason why you two shouldn't get on like a house on fire." She paused as Marlia hung her head, biting her lip.

"I just want to serve well" she said. Olia flicked her eyes to the ceiling.

"No, you don't. You want to avoid going back to whatever dump you came from. So, you have the motivation to learn, the right blend of spinelessness and silence to appeal to my dear dominus' sister-"

 

"Is she that strict?"

 

Olia smiled a smile devoid of any warmth.

 

"Yes, although I would be the first to admit I'm hardly an unbiased source. In all likelihood you'll be slapped around, patronised, have hairpins stuck in you, and be dismissed as useless in a month."

 

Marlia slumped, her shoulders falling. She put a hand to her face as Olia's hard expression continued.

"Olia, I'm sure I can serve well, I've always-"

"I'm just warning you, Marlia. You won't get it from the others, and if you're dumb enough to even hint at what I have said to you, you'll have a horrific accident with boiling water. The woman's a bitch. However, from the little I understand, she'll probably be better than anyone you've had before." She shrugged. "And I see no reason why actually, aside from your background, you wouldn't be a decent servant to her." She chuckled. "Hades, how hard can it be? And you've got a month to learn."

"Thanks for the encouragement" said Marlia, wanly. Olia smiled, more comfortingly this time.

 

"I'll see if I can hint you should be kept on. I've always felt thinking that slaves should stick together is rubbish, but if I can help you out, I will. I've had more than enough good luck in my life, compared to what it could have been." She smirked. "And whilst I'm pretty sure I'm smarter, better looking, better educated and generally superior to you, I wouldn't write you off just because you were born in some ghastly work camp. I came from someplace even worse. Besides, its not as if I want to end up kissing Julia's feet".

For a moment, Marlia was sceptical - she knew how vicious and complex slave politics could be, especially to a newcomer, and had no idea of what enemies she might make if she accepted Olia's help.  
But then, what other choice did she have? If Olia could put in a good word for her...

"I just want to be useful, Olia."

 

Olia winked. "That's the spirit, new bitch. Hades, Julia might even condescend to like you. Stranger things have happened. Oh, there's just one, little thing I'd like you to do for me."

 

Marlia nodded, already dreading what the request could be. But if Olia could help her - and the Gods knew she needed someones help - then she didn't have a choice.   
If Olia wanted Marlia's help, or support, or even her tongue in between her thighs at night, well, right now the new bitch knew she hadn't any other option.

 

"What is it, Olia?"

The hard expression on Olia's face was back.

 

"I'd like us to be friends, so consider this a friendly warning. Friends help each other out. Right now, you need a friend. I have everything I want, and you can't offer anything in return. I don't mind - you seem like a nice enough girl, and Hades, why shouldn't us slaves help each other out? But I know what you were doubtless thinking about my dominus."

"I-"

"Don't lie. I don't blame you. Hades, I'd be concerned if you didn't wonder about how it might help you if you did sleep with him. But rest assured, it won't. If you try and seduce Quintus - or even touch him - or make eyes at him - or, in fact, do anything to suggest that you think your life will be better if you share his bed - we won't be friends. Do I have to spell out what that would mean for you? Or can your imagination fill in the gaps?"

She flashed a quick grin.

"Now that that unpleasant business is out of the way, why don't I show you how to make scrambled eggs? Julia always has them for her breakfast - oh, and apricot jam, that is her favourite - so serve her toast with lashings of it and she's putty in your hands. Now..."


End file.
